“Swallow the fucking stuff, Melinda! If you want to be a whore then by god, I shall treat you like one!” He lets go of my hair, but only to use his hand to bite down on my chin and imprison me so I can do nothing but look into his hateful, cold, blue eyes. Ice. Frozen and so unfeeling, they send terror into my soul.
I choke the lipstick down my throat, doing my best not to gag. The problem is the fear of losing my connection with my mother, of knowing the pain I will soon endure, and the half of a grapefruit Michael allotted me for breakfast this morning, all roll together and combine to tear my insides up and I vomit. I try to clamp my lips and teeth together, but the force is too strong. Michael growls and pushes me away from him so hard and fast that I can’t even begin to stop myself. I fall back into the chair and it slides when my weight impacts it. I feel my back scrape along the metal of the arms as I fall to the floor. The chair continues to slide until my head hits the floor.
“Fucking cunt. You will pay for that.” He growls, wiping the small amount of lipstick-tinted bile that sprayed on his chin. It’s then that he kicks my stomach. I curl to try and prevent it, but I’m too dazed, too slow and I can’t. One…two…three…the impact of his booted foot slams into my stomach over and over—until it finally stops.
I’m gasping trying to catch my breath, thankful for the small reprieve when his foot comes at my face. I see a flash of black, feel the forceful hit land on my mouth and taste copper again, only this time a lot more. Another hit, this time on the upper part of my head, it leaves me lightheaded. I pray I will lose consciousness. If I do, maybe he will leave me alone, and even if he doesn’t, I won’t know. Again, my prayers are unanswered. He pulls me up by the collar of my dress. I hear the tearing of the fabric and even in my pained, fearful state, I mourn it. There was a time I adored dressing up and feeling pretty. I vow if I survive this, the only thing I will adore is being cold. I need to be as cold as Michael to survive. Then again, I’m not even sure why I want to survive.
The dress must rip even more, because as quick as he begins pulling me up, I fall back against the cold tile. I feel the cold air of the room hit my chest and down my side. Michael grabs my head and pulls me by my hair. He drags me through the office chairs, but I barely notice the way they rake over my body with their metal legs. He throws me on the couch and my stomach revolts. If I had anything left inside, I would vomit again. I know where this will end. I know how it will end. I don’t want it. Everything in me is screaming out at the injustice, the unfairness of it all. I close my eyes and try to remember something…anything to take my mind away from what is about to happen. Nicole’s face dances in front of me and intermingles with Ray. My only friends in the world. They have no idea how bad my life is here. If they interfered, Michael would kill them. I can’t let that happen. I vow no one will ever touch my friends the way that Michael does me. It’s a weak vow, but still a vow.
“You want to be a whore my darling wife, I will treat you like one.”
How can his voice sound so calm? It’s as if he’s talking about the weather. What kind of monster can do that? Again, he pulls me by my hair until he has my face pushed into the top of the sofa. My knees sink into the cushions and I try to reach back to stop him. It’s no use, he grabs my wrist and I feel immense pain as I hear a bone snap. I scream out and he pushes my face harder into the wood on the Queen Anne sofa. I try to move my face to the side, I can feel the teeth in my mouth and they are loose and at least one is chipped. There’s so much blood in my mouth, I almost choke on it. The ripping of my clothes continue, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He grabs the necklace at the back of my neck and pulls. It’s a thick chain and in this instance that is bad, because he pulls tighter and tighter until my head is snapped back and my air is restricted.
He plunges inside of me. Tearing as he goes, as he always does. My vision starts to dim, the room goes gray and I’m ready for it. I’m ready for death. Anything so I no longer have to endure this…